R.I.P Robbie Silva by Tony Black

'
    Silva nodded, went to the door and summoned Gail and Ben. They trotted through like sullen teenagers a few seconds later. As we stood round the table I told them how I wanted the job to go, what their roles were and who they took their orders from.
    Ben huffed.
    ' You got a problem? ' I said to him.
    His huff turned into a sneer. ' No. '
    ' Good. '
    Silva started another tab. He was smoking like a fucking lum.
    I tapped a finger on the table. ' This should be a simple job, if you all do what you ' re told, when you ' re told. I ' ve got it timed to six minutes and I ' ll be clocking it at that. If we go over the six minutes I want all of us to pull back. Got that? '
    Silva nodded first, then the others.
    I continued, ' Now, this is a heavy bit of work, and we know that, so it has to go like clockwork or we ' re fucked. Gail, you ' re gonna be our bag man – I want the money bagged and booted fast as you can. '
    ' Okay. Got that, ' she said.
    ' Now, the old fella is gonna stay in the car, soon as the doors shut – you boot it. '
    ' Got ya, ' said Silva.
    ' Ben, you and me are doing the frightners. That means noising up the security guards, shaking them up. But remember – first and foremost – get them to open those boxes. There ' ll be bangers and dye packs in there and you have to get them to take them out ... ' His eyes wandered. ' You hearing me? '
    ' Yeah, yeah ... only bag the money, no other shit. '
    ' Right ... ' I scanned the group. They were fuck-all but I knew my own abilities and figured I could hold this together. ' Now, one last thing. Do not fire off those shooters. '
    ' What? ' said Ben.
    ' You fucking heard, I ' ve not been on a job yet that needed gunfire and I ' m not fucking starting now. '
    ' But what if they try it on? ' said Ben.
    I locked him down. ' Leave it to me. No fucking shots, right. You start firing off rounds and the filth will be on us quicker than a fucking rat up a drainpipe. We need all the time we can muster to get back to the flop and I don ' t want to be playing dodgems with plod. '
    Silva started to nod and the others followed suit.
    I checked my watch. ' We ' ve got an hour and a half before we go. Be ready. '

    * * * *

    As we were getting into the Toyota that Silva had sourced, Gail leaned over and placed a little kiss on my cheek.
    ' What was that for? ' I said.
    ' Luck, or something. '
    ' I ' d sooner something ... we don ' t want to be relying on luck. '
    Gail winked. ' Well, go for something, then. '
    We drove out of the farmstead. The road was rough and ready but the car cleared it no trouble. Silva had a tab in the fingers of his rope-backed gloves. I kept an eye on him; he was nervy, but I think he was more worried about the rest of us than himself. My main concern was how Ben would go; Gail, I had experience of and I think she had learnt her lesson, but this gimp was a mystery to me and I didn ' t like unknown factors on any of my jobs.
    The day was clear, not exactly sunshine but as close as you get in Scotland. There was a low cloud covering but I didn ' t expect rain. That was good, making a getaway on wet roads was not a great idea. Tyres spin and cars lose control.
    At the by-pass Silva flicked his tab out the window. The others were quiet. I could feel my pulse calming as we got onto the M8; I knew I was readying myself for the job. Some people, they get edgy; me, I get fucking Zen. I ' m never calmer than when I ' m on a bit of work.
    As we cruised along the road, no-one spoke. It was getting hot in the car and Gail opened her window a little. I felt a few spots of rain coming in now, but it was nothing to worry about – didn ' t even require the wipers on.
    ' There she is, ' said Silva. He ' d spotted the service station up ahead.
    ' Ease off the peddle, ' I said. I looked out to see if I could spot the security van but there was no sign. One or two cars were parked out the front of the Little Chef but there was no sign of the wagon we ' d come to target.
    '